


The Hills

by BubblegumCat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, University AU, pretty angsty, yeah there will probably be sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCat/pseuds/BubblegumCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean has quite a few secrets. His past is pretty dark, it's bleeding into his present life, and he doesn't ever want anyone to find out. Ever. He'd rather just keep everyone at arm's length, because in his eyes it's safer that way. For everyone. So when he meets a stranger at a club who gets a little too close for comfort, Jean isn't sure what to do. Does he do what he always does and push them away? Or will he actually learn to trust someone, and get away from all the darkness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> so i got the idea for this fic from the song the hills by the weeknd, hence the name. it's changed and evolved quite abit from my original concept but hey i hope it's still gonna be interesting. i hope you enjoy! ^_^
> 
> also, just to clarify, this may not be entirely realistic. some of what Jean goes through is pretty intense, and i can't claim to know exactly what he's feeling and exactly what someone in his situation would do, but i'll do my best to make it as believable as i can

The lights are blinding, but in the best possible way. Bright blue mainly, but also some deep violet and neon pink thrown in there too. In this light everyone looks the same; all just sweaty, drunk mindless people, all escaping and forgetting, together. It's like when I come here I suddenly simultaneously both cease to exist completely and feel more here and alive than I've ever felt. Or, at least, I've ever felt since the last time I was here. 

I'm in the middle of the crowd, wedged in, moving my hips and my hands above my head in near perfect synchronisation with the bodies surrounding me on all sides. You'd think it would be claustrophobic, too close, suffocating. But it's the opposite. It’s freedom. I'm drenched in my own sweat and probably other people's. My mind is a haze of alcohol and the loud music hitting me head on. I used to worry about people recognising me, but there's no way anyone would notice me. Not in a crowd this size. 

I woke up this morning with scratch marks on my arm from where I'd scratched an itch just a little too hard the night before, and bruises left over from when that one guy was a little too rough, even for me. 

And now I'm here, alive, and I'm okay. No obligations. No responsibility. I concentrate on that feeling. It's what gets me through most days, memories of times like these. I mean, it's not like I can ever fucking talk about anything. Not really. So this is how I get it out. 

Just as the song playing fades into a new one, the beat for this one deeper, I accidentally make eye contact with someone. This guy. His eyes fixed on mine, and mine on him. I haven't got a clue how. This room is literally packed full to the brim with people, we can all just barely dance. 

And yet, here I am, eyes locked with this stranger. This beautiful stranger. His face lit up with the colours of the lights, but I can still see his dark hair, dark eyes, skin that makes him look like he lives in the sun. I can tell from here that he's covered in freckles, and his face is so, kind somehow. Usually the only people who make eye contact with me just want to fuck me, and I can see it on their faces. Usually the men are more predatory, but I've had women look at me like that plenty of times too. But with this guy, here, now, it doesn't feel like that. 

I try to look away, I really do, but something's stopping me. There's something different about his eyes. They're really warm, and I can feel their warmth inside me. It feels like holding a warm mug of coffee after walking home in the winter, that same feeling of soft, homey comfort. 

We keep staring at each other, eyes locked for what seems like eons. I can see him dancing too, just like how I can feel that I'm still moving, that the people around me are still thrashing around, that the music is still pounding out of the speakers relentlessly. But at the same time, it's also like it's just us here. Just him and me. Nothing else. 

And then he disappears. 

My eyes dart around frantically as I try and search for him, but some asshole came in front of him and once they move out of the way again he's gone. I swear loudly, but still not loud enough to hear myself over the din of everything else. 

I try and shake it off. He was just a stranger, who the fuck cares? You never even spoke to him, you just stared at him like some creepy weird person. It's probably better that you never got involved. Whenever I get involved, things rarely seem to go well. Well, okay, never. They never go well. I'm not exactly what anyone would call a "people person". 

Oh well, fuck it. Life goes on. I get back to dancing. But it's like that face, those eyes, are burned into my mind. I close my own eyes and all I can see is him. I shake my head to the music, trying to clear it. How can he already be engrained into my brain? I can't have been looking at him for more than thirty seconds or so. 

I just keep dancing, reverting back to my usual tried and true method of forgetting. The music is so loud I feel it deep inside my body, my heart beating with the rhythm. 

After a few more songs I realise my drunk haziness is fading and decide I need a few more shots, so I shove my way to the back of the large room where the bar is. By the time I get there I'm even sweatier than before and now vaguely pissed off, which is basically my usual emotion anyway to be honest. 

I order three shots of vodka, downing one straight away as soon as it’s put down in front of me. "Gonna save any booze for the rest of us?" I hear a voice speak, not unkindly despite the teasing, behind me, and I whirl around. 

It's the stranger from before, with the warm brown eyes that are somehow so much more than just brown. He's smiling at me, face lit up like he's made of pure sunlight, and I can't help grinning back. "Uh, hi." 

"Hi. I saw you dancing. You're good."

"Oh hey thanks. You too." I think I continue to smile back at him, but who knows. I'm not the best as making myself look friendly. Too many years of scowling and glowering at everyone I meet I guess. 

"You wanna dance some more?" He asks me, so open, so genuine, his face seeming like he isn’t hiding anything and wouldn't even know how if he tried. 

I nod, gesturing for him to have one of the two shots, and he grins at me with renewed energy before he brings one up to his lips and tilts it down his throat. I do the same, knocking it back like it's nothing, and then he grabs my hand and pulls me back into the mass of heaving bodies. 

Once we're back deep inside the crowd and up close to the stage again we start dancing. He's taller than me, dancing behind me, and I'm not shy about dancing up close to him, practically grinding on him. By the way he grabs my hips though he doesn’t mind too much. Through the dizzy blur of the alcohol in my system I feel this inexplicable connection with him. I can't explain it. I feel like I know him, and at the same time I really want to know him. All of him. And usually I don't really want to know anyone. Like I said, not really a people person. 

I don't know how long we dance for. A good half an hour? No idea. I lose myself more than I ever have before. At one point I turn around so I can see his face, and we dance like that for awhile. He looks at me like I'm everything good in the world. I'm not used to that. I'm used to lust, desire, primal instinct. Not to be big headed or anything, but I know I'm hot. 

We dance facing each other until he grabs my hand and leans forwards to yell in my ear. "You wanna go get something to drink?"

I nod and lead the way back out towards the bar, where we order our drinks. He gets a fucking pina colada, and I just get a bacardi and coke. Not so much into the fruit shit me. I take a sip as he tugs me over to some free stools and a small table in the corner of the room. 

We sit down, and talk about small things and big things, but I don’t reveal much about myself. Neither of us ask names. It seems like an unspoken rule between the two of us that we wont ask for names, or for anything too personal. Somehow he just seems to know, and I get a similar sort of vibe from him. So we drink, and listen to the music still playing, and talk about the people around us and music and the tattoos on my arms and existential stuff because he told me he's studying philosophy. 

A girl comes up to me. Tight dress, tits on show, eyelashes too ridiculously long to be real by any stretch of the imagination. I think I fucked her maybe a month or so ago, after which she gave me some decent coke and about £10. I remember she especially enjoyed sitting on my face. And handcuffs. And that she has a pretty hilarious orgasm face.

"Hiya babe. Not seen you in a few weeks. You got plans for tonight?" She puts her hand on my bicep, squeezing slightly, her fake nails digging in. I remember the scratch marks I had down my back that are still healing from those same fucking claws. 

"Bit busy right now. Sorry. Another time maybe?"

She narrows her eyes. "Not even for double what I gave last time?"

"Look, I'm not fucking interested. Fuck off."

She looks back and forth between me and, um, the tall dark and handsome stranger. Raises her eyebrows. "Alright then. Fine." She spins on her heel, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and as she walks away I swear I hear her mutter "Faggot."

And then she's walking away. Fucking bitch. I see red, and fight the urge to yank the girl back by her stupidly long hair extensions and beat her made up face into the ground. But I've gotten pretty good at suppressing those sorts of feelings. I mean, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Not by a fucking long shot. Some people just can't handle rejection. 

Then I remember I'm not alone, and I chance a glance at the stranger. My face must still be burning. Good fucking thing the lighting even back here is dim and weird and vaguely blue. He doesn't say anything, just looks at me with those eyes, before he says, "Shall we go dance some more?" 

~~

Just half an hour later my lips meet his. I can't help it. The grinding was getting more intense, our faces so close as we moved to the music, and it just seemed natural. He kisses like he never wants to stop, like I'm fucking giving him life or something. I know I'm good at sex stuff, practice makes perfect and all, but this is different. I feel more than I hear him moan into my open mouth and he rakes his hand down my chest.

Somehow we've moved with the crowd across the room while dancing so we're close to a wall, and I push him up against it. Lips still locked, his hands scraping against the dark stubble of my undercut, mine on his hips pushing him against me. I want him. There's this fire inside me, the warmth he instilled in me turned into pure flames in a matter of moments. 

But then he pulls away. Pulls out his phone, which I can see is vibrating and lighting up bright. A picture of a smiling girl with the same freckles as him flashing up. His face falls. He says something that I don't hear, his eyes apologetic, and I read his lips to see them say "I'm sorry." And then he's turning away, pushing back through the crowd, leaving me here and taking all the heat he shared with me with him as he disappears in the crowd. 

What can I do except go back into the thrumming crowd? So I do, I start dancing on my own again, trying to forget those eyes, that smile, those lips turned up into that open, genuine smile. I shake my head the same way I did before. Fuck that. The craving for something to fill the empty hole fills me. Maybe I should go find that girl with the claws again.

~~

My head is killing me when I wake up. I open my eyes to find that I'm not sleeping in my own bed. These sheets are leopard print, along with the curtains. Classy. Yeah, definitely not my place.

I sit up, run a hand through my hair, and groan at the feeling of being upright. My head's killing me. There's no one else around, as far as I can see. The room's quiet. Thank fuck. Don't think I could deal with humans right now. 

I look to the side, see an alarm clock that says it's 11am. Wait. 11? I have a lecture in half a fucking hour. Fuck. I force myself up out of bed, find a shirt that looks big enough to fit me on the floor along with some jeans, both of which I assume are mine, but honestly who the fuck even knows. I can't care at this point. Just gotta focus on getting to class. 

I find my shit scattered all over the floor. Phone, keys, wallet. Right, get out before anyone comes back. My back stings, and then I remember it was the girl with the nails. Great. On further inspection of her flat I find a nearly empty bottle of vodka - which I finish off, because fuck it - and a half full bag of coke on the table in the living room, which I pocket. Whatever. She shouldn't leave shit like that lying around when she has strangers in the house. Careless really. I slam the door on my way out. 

Luckily her block of flats isn't too far away from the club, and from there I make my way back to Trost University. I realise belatedly that I don’t have any notebooks or anything with me and I swear aloud. An old man passing me on the street glares, and I glare right back at him until he looks at the ground. It's too fucking early for this shit. I decide I'll have to just got up to my room and get my stuff, whatever, I'll just have to be ten minutes late. Erwin's gonna be pissed, but can't exactly be helped. Also I guess I should at least brush my teeth. All I can fucking taste is smoke and something vaguely alcoholic. 

Once I'm done in my room I slam the door, realise I'm now 15 minutes late already and turn my strides into a sort of jog. I'm not running, there's no way. I'm just about the go through the door when I bump into someone else coming the opposite way. I'm about the glare them into submission the same way I did with the old man before when I get a look at the guy's face. Fuck me. No fucking way. 

It's the warm freckled guy from the club. The one who danced with me, who kissed me, who saw that girl offer to pay money/give me drugs to fuck me. Fuck. 

Even now he's still looking at me with that same warmth. "Hi." His voice sounds like honey, sweet, inviting, reassuring. I can't. He saw that girl, he can't be here he can't know. I shake my head and resist the almost unbearable inexplicable urge I have to punch that reassurance off his face. How can he seem so open? He shouldn't be so trusting. I can't let myself get involved. 

"I-I can't, I have to go." I push him out of the way, this time full on sprinting away from him towards the sciences building. At least Erwin yelling at me will be a distraction from the mess unfolding in my head.


	2. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is an overthinking, worrying, mess of a person, who isn't such as big of an asshole as he makes out, underneath that hard exterior. But he soon finds out he has nothing to worry about. Possibly.

I can't concentrate in my lecture. I've twigged that it's something to do with the common bacteria and parasites that affect bodies after death, but aside from that I'm fucking lost. The only thing my mind seems to be able to focus on is running through every single worst case scenario under the fucking sun. 

What if he tells all his friends and they tell their friends and everyone knows what I've done, what I still do occasionally when I run out of money for food? 

What if he tells a teacher and they tell the police and I get fucking arrested? Or Levi gets arrested? What if they find the safe house and all the people working there get fucked over? All because of me. All because I fucked up. Don't think I could ever fix a fuck up that monumental. 

What if I get kicked out of uni and those years I spent fucking selling my fucking body have all been for nothing? I'd have to go back on the streets again. I'd have to take it all back up, go see Levi and see if there's any room left in the house. And I still owe him so much money. How the fuck can I pay him pack with no real job? Fuck. This cannot fucking be happening. 

Right. No, stop. At this rate I'm going to have a full on break down in the middle of this lecture hall. Breathe Jean. Breathe. It's gonna be okay. Nothing's happened yet. We'll find that guy, talk to him, get him to understand. And if he won't I'll just beat him up and threaten him a bit until he swears he won't breathe a word to anyone. No big deal, right? I'll sort it. I won't let him ruin anything, not for me or anyone else. 

Breathe. In and out. In and out. Count and breathe with the breaths. Everything will be okay. 

I dig my short bitten nails into my arm, pick up my pencil and look back up at Erwin, trying to concentrate on the lecture he's giving. I glance either side of me and on the left some little blonde kid is looking at me like he's worried about my sanity. Or, at least, his own well being, as he's sitting kinda close to me. I narrow my eyes at him. His cheeks flush slightly and he looks away sharpish. 

I heave a sigh and turn my attention back to Erwin. Focus on the lecture for now. We'll focus on finding that guy later. 

After Erwin's done talking at us (because, after all, that's really all that lectures even are, but especially with Erwin) I shove all my stuff in my bag ready to fucking bolt. Really don’t wanna be around people right about now. I'm just on my way out when I hear a timid voice. "Um hey, wait." 

I whip back around, ready to completely rip into someone if I have to, but I see it's just the small blonde kid who was looking at me before. I don't reply, just raise my eyebrows at him. He holds out a pair of earphones, my earphones, fuck. Must've fallen out of my pocket. I take them off him, offering a mumbled thanks, but he isn't done yet. He stumbles over his words a bit.

"Are you um, okay?" I glare at him, and I can see him withdrawing immediately and he backtracks "Not that it's any of my business at all, but I just mean like, you don't look so okay, and so I was just wondering if you were , okay, that is." 

I sigh, pulling a hand through my hair roughly. Sighing seems to be all I've fucking done today. But something about his kid makes me not want to be an asshole to him. "Yeah. I'm fine." As an afterthought, I add "Uh, thanks." and I turn back around. Definitely not letting anyone stop me this time. Even if they do mean well. 

I feel sick as I walk down the corridor, dread pooling deep in the pit of my stomach at the thought of running into him again. I push it away fiercely, tell myself that it's completely illogical. I mean, what are the chances that I even will see him again so soon anyway? They must be next to nothing. Right? And what's he going to do if I do see him again, I've been in fights before, I can take him. I think. Although I doubt he'd want to fight me. Why would he? There I go again with the overthinking. My brain yelling a thousand things at me all at once, and not making any sense a good 80% of the time. Fuck. 

Barely thinking about it, my hand shoves it's way into my pocket, dredging out the earphones that I very nearly left tangled up on the seat of my chair. I silently thank the blonde kid again, vaguely regretting how cold I was, but I figure hey it's not like it's a new thing. I'm nearly always like that anyway. 

As soon as the music starts I feel everything start to ebb away a little, bit by bit. I'd never admit it, but walking home is one of my favourite times of the day. I couldn't cope without shutting the world out with my music, I doubt I'd even be here at all. The best part of the walk is when I get to the park. Usually it takes me ten minutes or so to get back up to my room in my dorm building next to the university, but if I go through the park on the campus it adds an extra twenty minutes. Still, wouldn't miss it for the world though. 

Being under all those trees, seeing the sun filter softly through them, or looking at the clouds through the bare branches in the colder months, it makes me feel more alive than anything. Except maybe when I'm at the clubs. Nature and music, the two things I'm actually willing to stick around for. I know it sounds ridiculous, but just the sight of a sunset can be enough to keep me going for a couple of days. Seeing trees swaying the breeze, noticing the plants I keep in my dorm room have grown even incrementally, the sound of rain falling, all these tiny little things, they help keep me alive. 

Once I pass through the park and I'm back to the monotonous concrete of the rest of the campus it's only five minutes or so until I reach my dorm building, Maria, towering above me. I look up at it as I tug the hood of my hoodie closer around my neck, the wintry air starting to sting a little. It still takes me by surprise sometimes, just how many people must live here. Trost uni is massive, and it's pretty full up right now. I couldn't even tell you how many people go here. Which I'm glad about, because that only means its easier to blend in and not be noticed. 

I make my way up to my room, slam the door, pull off my hoodie and collapse on my bed. Fuck. I'm exhausted, and it's only 1pm. Yet again I thank every deity I can think of that I don’t have to share my room with anyone. No way could I deal with that, not on a daily basis, and most definitely not on days like this. Ugh. 

After what feels like what must have been at least ten minutes of just lying there, I pull myself up so I'm sitting. Guess I should at least try and get some work done. I don't really have much of a social life, don't really associate with others all that much, so it's not like I have anything better to do. My stomach growls grumpily, and I realise I haven't eaten today, and that all I've had is a third of a bottle of vodka. Jesus Christ. Responsible adult of the year award definitely isn't going to me this year. This is probably why I'm such a skinny, pale, bitter asshole. 

I force myself upright, swaying slightly and wrapping my arms around my torso, realising belatedly that it's actually fucking cold and I was an idiot for taking my hoodie off. I use my toes to pick it up from where I dumped it on the floor. I can't face leaning down now, what with my head feeling like it's stuffed full of fucking cotton wool from all the alcohol last night. And I guess the vodka this morning. Fuck me I'm an idiot. Never fucking learn.

The rooms here don't have much by way of a kitchen, but we have a fridge, a microwave, and a small cooker, which is more than enough for me. I think there's a communal kitchen somewhere, but honestly? Fuck that. I fish some pot noodles out of a cupboard and get out one of the three pots I own to boil some water. Seeing as I don’t have a kettle. Yeah, I know I know. I'll get one someday. Maybe then I can have that responsible adult award. 

Once I've had my food, or more like forced it down whilst pushing away nausea, the headache I've been fighting against is finally taking over my poor mushed up brain. I dump the empty cup in the bin and make my way to the tiny bathroom for some paracetamol. I spot the little red pack and grab it, only to find each little pod empty. What the fuck. Why the fuck did I put it back if it was empty. 

My only option is to head down to the small shop on the bottom floor of Maria building and get some more. Unless I want to try and study with this headache. Which just isn't going to happen. Fuck me. 

I steel myself, deep breath, and head out to the lifts, kicking my door shut behind me and wincing as it slams. The sound reverberates cruelly in my head, and I can't help but glare at the door behind me. 

The lift takes too fucking long, as always, but finally I'm in front of the shop. Just get in, get some pills, and get out. Simple. I don't let myself think of freckles or warm inviting eyes. Like I said, no way could I run into him again. Right? I pick out some brand from behind the counter, pay for them with a mumbled "Thanks." and get out. 

Red pack of life saving little white pills safely stored in my pocket, I head back up to my room, letting out a breath I didn't realise I had been holding as I press the button for the lift. Just as I step inside and the doors are closing a hand shoots through the gap just in time, stopping them from shutting. The doors open again, and I see a mop of messy brown hair, and freckles, and warm brown eyes, and fuck this can't be happening this can't it can't there's no way. But it is, and it has, and he's looking at me as he steps through the doors and into the lift to stand next to me. He gives me a small smile, hesitant, but not cold. I don't know what my face is doing. All I know is I've gone cold. 

"Hey." His voice is exactly how I remember it, and I seem to have lost the ability to use mine. It takes a moment, but eventually I do reply.

"Hey."

He seems relieved that I spoke, his shoulders deflating slightly. "How, um, how are you?"

"I'm fine. Thanks. Are you, uh, doing okay?" 

"Oh yeah I'm good, thank you." 

Silence falls then. I'm cringing internally over how awkward this is. How the fuck did I think id be able to beat him up? Even with all the layers he's wearing I can tell he's bigger than me, not to mention taller. Only slightly, but it still counts. Why are the lifts here so slow, I want to punch a hole in the floor and just drop all the way down, anything to get out of here. What must he think of me? Is he disgusted? Does he think I'm a cheap whore, sleeping around for money? Fuck he must, right? He left so fast last night it's such a blur, I barely remember-

He interrupts my panicky monologue then. "Hey look, I really am sorry about last night. It wasn't anything to do with you, I swear, I just had something I had to do. I just-" He takes a breath, seeming to steady himself, his face flushing. It makes him look even prettier. Wait, did I really just call him pretty? Then he's talking again. "I'd like to get to know you, properly, if you'd be okay with that?" He looks at my face then, those big hazel eyes boring straight into mine, like he can see everything inside me, everything iv ever thought and felt, all laid out for him.

Wait, what did he say though? He wants to get to now me? He doesn't, didn't, care about that woman? I realise then that his eyes are still on me, brows furrowing in, is that concern? I nod quickly, not really thinking about what I'm doing. "Oh uh, yeah, sure. I'd um, I'd like that. To get to know you, I mean. Properly." 

His face lights up like so many sunsets all at once and my chest feels tighter. "Great! That's so great, I'm so glad." 

The lift reached my floor then, and I make to leave, motioning that this is my floor as the doors open. "Oh yeah I'll let you get on. I'm Marco, by the way." He's still grinning at me, and I can feel my face rearranging involuntarily into a smile too.

"I'm Jean." 

"Well, I look forward to getting to know you Jean." I fight the urge to shiver at the sound of his voice saying my name. Just as the doors betting to close he again sticks himself in the way so they stay open. "Oh wait! Here let me give you my number," He digs a pen out of his pocket and gestures for me to give him my hand, and when I do he scrawls some digits onto it. He hands me the pen and holds out his hand for me, and I write my number down, hoping that he can't tell that I'm shaking slightly.

"Right, okay, so I'll text you sometime, yeah? And of course you can text me, if you want." Marco rubs the back of his head, face still slightly flushed. "Alright well, see you around Jean." And he gives me another sunset smile, eyes soft and still so so warm. I can't help but smile back again as he gives me a wave, which I return. 

I stand in front of the lift doors for a good two minutes, just processing what the fuck actually just happened. When I do make my way back to my room I nearly walk straight into my door head on, because I'm too busy staring at his number on my hand. Today really hasn't been what I expected. At all. But I can't find it in me to complain. Not with that smile burned into my memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this was okay, bit of a filler in the beginning to kinda give you a feel of the kinda person Jean is, i hope i presented him well enough. as always thank you so so much for reading! i will try and update more regularly yeah i know i suck at that


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